By Dave Swanson - Summit FM Contributor

RIP Marianne Faithfull (December 29, 1946 - January 30, 2025)

Of all the amazing female artists in the history of rock and roll music, there are few quite as intriguing, captivating, or simply beautiful, as Marianne Faithfull. She has long been a tower of strength, and her journey has been a long and interesting trek through a variety of musical and human adventures. To many, she is instantly remembered as this striking young woman who won the heart of a young Mick Jagger, and became half of one of rock and roll's most celebrated couples in the mid-1960s. While her recording career ran side by side to that of The Rolling Stones, and her first hit, 'As Tears Go By,' was a Jagger/Richards composition, Faithfull was always her own musical soul in search of her own expression.

Initially discovered by Rolling Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham, who thought he could make her a pop star, she signed to the Decca/London label, and between 1965 and 1967, issued a total of seven albums and ten singles, four of which cracked the Top 10. Over the course of those records, she tried her hand at pure pop, folk, a more sophisticated style of pop, and a tinge of psychedelia. Her voice was pure and honest throughout, despite a slight lack of identity at times. During this time frame as well, her life took a major turn, as she became romantically involved with Jagger, a relationship that would both benefit and damage her.

Covering songs by Jackie DeShannon, Bacharach/David, Jagger/Richards, and Tony Hatch, her 1965 debut was classic British pop, but by her second offering, 'Come My Way,' she was off on a musical adventure of her own. With songwriter Jon Mark, the duo reworked an album's worth of traditional folk songs. This approach would follow on her third LP, 'North Country Maid,' which also included compositions from Donovan and Bert Jansch. Her fourth and final album of the '60s, 'Love In A Mist,' would draw from both pop and folk influences.

By 1968, she had somewhat backed away from her music career, though it was a 1969 single that would forever change the way people viewed and understood Faithfull in musical terms. Decca issued a single, 'Something Better,' written by Brill Building mainstays Barry Mann and Gerry Goffin, to promote a best of album, 'The World Of Marianne Faithfull.' It was, however, the B-side that caught attention. 'Sister Morphine,' co-written by Faithfull with Jagger and Richards, made its first appearance on her solo single, with her vocal, nearly two years before The Rolling Stones would issue their version on 'Sticky Fingers.' The record biz, being the cruel and questionable place it was (is), failed to give her credit for the song upon the U.S. release. This issue was not rectified until the early 1990s!

For the next decade, Faithfull only recorded two albums. 'Dreamin’ My Dreams,' in 1976 (later reissued as 'Faithless’) and 'Rich Kid Blues,' recorded in 1971, with songs by Bob Dylan, George Harrison, Phil Ochs, Cat Stevens, and others. A phenomenal album that, for legal reasons, remained unreleased until 1985.

It was, however, in 1979 when Faithfull found her true voice with the release of the legendary 'Broken English' album. Combining elements of new wave, reggae, and electronic music, it helped put her music in clubs around the world, while it earned the most glowing reviews of her recording career. "As bracingly full of venom and spite as anything her punk admirers could muster,“ and “from a sweet pop star to a legitimate rock songstress who is both mature and empowering, while the album itself being a masterpiece."

The musically adventurous album is also a no holds barred lyrical trip, with zero censorship. I mean, zero! The lyrics to the LP's final track, 'Why'd You Do It?' were so explicit in its description of an affair, that workers at the EMI plant walked out, refusing to press the album. The song still resonates, and shocks, today. It is possibly the most vicious flip off song ever recorded. You think Taylor Swift, Beyonce, or any of these other prancing little pop stars have attitude? You have no idea!

Released 45 years ago this year, 'Broken English' was a definite turning point in her development as an artist. “I made a decision to really, completely give my heart to the whole thing, and that’s what happened," she told the Guardian. "I was quite smart enough to realize that I had a lot to learn. You know, I didn’t go to Oxford, but I went to Olympic Studios and watched the Rolling Stones record, and I watched the Beatles record as well. I watched the best people working and how they worked and, because of Mick, I guess, I watched people writing, too – a brilliant artist at the top of his game. I watched how he wrote and I learned a lot, and I will always be grateful.” The title track became a club hit and critical triumph.

She would remain musically active and adventurous through the 80s and 90s, performing with everything from a jazz combo to a rock band to an orchestra. She would hit a genuine gold streak in the 2000s with albums like 'Before The Poison,' 'Horses And High Heels,' 'Give My Love To London,' and 'Negative Capability,' many of which she teamed up with members of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, who proved to be perfect musical companions to where Marianne was at. The world weariness of her voice went to suit the songs, and her performances, better with age.

Throughout her life, she has battled everything thrown at her, from being berated by the press in the UK, to dealing with the male rock and roll ego, and the complications of the music industry, not to mention a serious heroin addiction that left her homeless at one point. There was also a battle in later years with cancer, Hepatitis C, a broken hip, depression, and lastly, a serious battle with Covid, which, sadly, left damage to her lungs and, therefore, making singing a difficult task at this point. Her most recent album, 'She Walks In Beauty,' from 2021, featured her own reading of some of her favorite poems, with musical accompaniment from Warren Ellis, of the Bad Seeds. Marianne Faithfull was and still is a tower of strength, with battle scars and a vast catalog of music to prove it. An eternally interesting songstress and human being, her story is one of strength, survival, and sonic adventure. "I don’t know why I believe in miracles. I just do," she surmised. "Maybe I have to, the journey I’ve been on, the things that I’ve put myself through, that I’ve got through so far and I’m OK.” One of a kind and just as cool, if not cooler, than her male counterparts and companions, Marianne Faithfull shines on.

By Matt Anthony - Summit FM Digital Media Specialist

 “Appreciation is a wonderful thing. It makes what is excellent in others belong to us as well.”

Voltaire 

We could hardly see. The snow piled up, and the roads were noticeably worse since we arrived for Mass an hour earlier. Leaving St. Peter’s, my father, though, would not be deterred.
 
He was going to check for that damned license plate number!
 
Early in our youth, my father adopted an additional Sunday morning ritual. Almost immediately after receiving Communion and waiting for the recessional hymn to end, we would practically sprint to the car so that, on the way home, my father could stop briefly at the Sohio station on 9th street. This filling station was never open on Sunday. 
 
However, it posted a printed poster with a series of license plate numbers on the glass window. Should our number be listed, we would win free gas. It was his ‘lottery day’, a chance to pull into the empty station, run over to the window, check to see if his future would be augmented in some way, and then return to the car, usually deflated, and head home, with high hopes for the next weekend.
 
On that snowy Sunday, my father, again, pulled into the Sohio. “I’ll be right back,” he announced before opening the door and releasing an Arctic blast of air into the car’s interior. Mark, my twin brother, was in the front seat, and I watched as my father sprinted to the front of the building and touched his gloved finger to the glass, moving up and down between the rows of numbers.
 
“We didn’t win,” he exclaimed on his return, turning up the heat and rolling our car back onto 9th street towards home, turning right and heading north on Shorb Avenue. 
 
Suddenly, through the blurry, wintry onslaught, a figure emerged. Plodding ever-so-slowly, this person shuffled along on the sidewalk, inching southbound on Shorb. Though draped in a parka and other winter accessories, my 8-year-old sensibilities could detect her ample, voluptuous curvature.
 
“I can’t believe she’s out walking in this weather,” I mumbled. My brother, Mark, in the front seat, turned his head back to the sidewalk, struggling to catch a glance. Shortly after, she walked up a set of steps and disappeared into the morning chill.
 
“How did you know it was a girl?” Mark asked.
 
I stole a glance at my father in the rear-view mirror, and we briefly made eye contact. My dad then looked back at the road. “Matt and I know it was a girl,” he said.
 
These tiny episodes have been invading my cerebral cortex over the past two months. I’ve been struggling to find a deeper meaning in them, while at the same time attempting to understand this phenomenon called ‘the grieving process’. But I admit to a foreign numbness, a kind of ‘grief PTSD’ that I can’t understand.
 
Losing both parents three weeks apart seems to have caused my gratitude antennae to lie dormant. But every once in a while, small episodes like the one above will materialize, like a July afternoon shower, and briefly drench me in an enormous tidal wave of thankfulness.
 
I was preparing eggs for Donna and me the other morning, and suddenly, I was transported. Mark and I had just finished our roles as altar boys for the morning’s 6:30 a.m. Mass. Long before the days of multi-car families, my mother would wake up extra early before even starting to get us ready for the day, and she would prepare breakfast, knowing that once we were driven (by her) to Mass, we would have to wait at the school for class to begin. We had one car, and my father needed it for work.
 
So that we would have breakfast, my mom would make our egg sandwiches, carefully dropping the scrambled eggs onto Wonder bread, cutting each of our sandwiches in half, and wrapping them in tin foil so that they would remain hot until we could eat them later in the morning.
 
I chuckled at this memory while making Donna our breakfast. Mark and I would trudge over to the darkened cafeteria connected to the school so that we could eat my mother’s concoction. Under one solitary row of lights sat the bus drivers, having coffee while their buses warmed up. “There’s those Sedmock boys!” they’d cackle. “Mom made ‘em those scrambled egg sandwiches again!”
 
We would stare at them and happily munch away. Didn’t everyone’s mother do this, I thought.
 
"Those whom we love and lose are
no longer where they were before.
They are now wherever we are."
- St. John Chrysostom

Yes, their gifts to us as parents are wide and plentiful. But as this grief-and-gratitude phenomenon introduces itself to my world, I feel like I’m most thankful for the seemingly insignificant acts that they bestowed on us. Like my mother splitting a grapefruit in half, taking a small knife, and separating each quadrant of fruit from its sheath so that we could easily extract the juicy fruit with our spoon, unimpeded. (not to mention the dash of sugar that she would spread across each half to temper the tartness!)
 
We’re sometimes told that we can fully experience gratitude when we finally conquer the loss. But this seems too large for my brain to handle, at least so far. I’m content with the microscopic things, being open to their memories, attempting to figure out how to share what they taught while still trying to move forward through the fog.

By Chad Miller - Summit FM Music Director

What's everyone been listening to out there? So much new music coming at us, so little time... However, these songs that might fly under the radar to most are what I've been diggin' these past few weeks!

Like what you hear? Please email me at chad@thesummit.fm and let me know what you think!

By Summit FM Contributor Marc Lee Shannon

Like many of us, I look ahead with intentions, wishes, and resolutions when the new year begins. Last year, 2024, was a tester. I mean that there were so many changes, some expected some, eh, not so much. I more than once found myself in situations reminiscent of that feeling, like when you slip on the kitchen floor, in a slow-motion ballet of limbs flailing, screaming sounds like a cheap horror film Saturday matinee, and then, the final crash of my bouncing of the head on cold tile floor.  Or, in my case, super convincing Lowes special-on-sale faux vinyl. 

I am so over 2024. It was a challenging year, and I had to draw on my resilience and durability more than once and on more than one occasion. I am sure that I am not alone in this. Can I get an Amen?

So, looking ahead to 2025,” What's the plan, dude?” says my rational, practical side of that twin voice conscience engine, the constantly critical, rarely helpful devil of a bully in my lacking-confidence spinning head. 

I have a plan that starts with a mantra. In 2025, I will:

Get comfortable being uncomfortable.

Full stop. Let that one wash over ya. Now reread it. 

I don’t want to get all zen on you, dear readers, but I like many of the teachings in Buddhist wisdom, and one that holds dear to me is that we all have to suffer. That is human. However, remaining attached to suffering is a choice. We are all floating downstream more or less on this planet and cannot control the current, of course, but we can pick up the darn oar and steer. Oh, rocks or rapids coming up around the bend? Ok, steer. Are you struggling with health, family, or financial issues? Ok, Steer. Sudden problem with a significant other that is recurring? Ok, Steer.  In fact, I have adopted a little spurt of a saying when I feel uncomfortable. I say, “Bring it on.” I say this as if by turning and facing the difficult situation, I can admit that it is game time, and I can deal with whatever twisted sister tsunami by saying Ok, you are here. You will make it through this and now turn and face the uncomfortable. Breathe.

Getting comfortable with being uncomfortable means that we are rarely going to have the river slow and easy, and when it's not, we can deal with it. A sudden shift in thinking will change your world. What we think about, we bring about. So why not look at change, challenges, and cheap life punches with a new set of glasses?  Sometimes, most of the time, all we can do is change our view. Opinion matters in that self-talk, self-assuring coaching moment with ourselves.  

So, in 2025, I will get comfortable being uncomfortable. How about you? What can you change your perspective on within the next month, week, or moment? 

Well, wish me luck! Send me a line or two at marcleeshannon@gmail.com with your thoughts about this column or if you have an idea for another. Love to hear from you! 

Until then... Cheers, stay standing, and, as always, steady on!

By Dave Swanson - Summit FM Contributor

Of all the blues legends in history, few, if any, have the magic and presence of Chester Arthur Burnett, better known as Howlin' Wolf. His transformation of acoustic blues into an electric-charged storm was a major factor in creating rock and roll music. His guitar playing was raw and captivating, and his harmonica skills would charge any given song, but it was his voice, with its almost otherworldly growl, that truly put him on the map.

Legend has it that he learned initial guitar licks from blues legend Charly Patton and harmonica prowess from Rice Miller, aka Sonny Boy Williamson (#2), but that voice came from the big man himself, and there was never another quite like it! His mere presence would shake the room. 

Born in 1910, Wolf was a bit older than most by the time he dove into the music game. It wouldn't be until the late '30s that he started to take flight. Following the aforementioned schooling from Patton and Williamson, Wolf had found a musical calling. After brief stints in prison and the army, Wolf focused on his music. In 1948, Wolf and his band began performing on radio station KWEM in West Memphis. These broadcasts caught Sam Philips's ear. So, in the spring of 1951, Phillips brought Wolf into Memphis Recording Service, soon to become Sun Studios, to record a demo. An entire session followed a couple of months later.

Guitarist Willie Johnson, and drummer Willie Steele backed Wolf. Initial tracks laid down included the classic 'How Many More Years and the haunting 'Moanin' at Midnight' Phillips then sent the finished recordings to Chess Records in Chicago for release. A single featuring those monster songs would rise to No. 4 and 10, respectively, on the Billboard R&B chart in August of 1951.

Wolf's reputation and catalog continued to grow with the release of several singles for Chess from 1951 through 1958. At the same time, Ike Turner's involvement with Howlin' Wolf led to a handful of singles on the Los Angeles-based RPM label. Some, in fact, were variations on the Chess hits with modified titles, but that's a whole other story.

With an ever-growing discography and the rise of this new music called Rock & Roll, (that Wolf had arguably had a significant hand in creating), Chess Records decided it was time to release an LP of some of his finest moments, so in 1959 'Moanin' In The Moonlight' became the first Howlin' Wolf LP. Featured among the twelve tracks were songs as early as 1951 at Memphis Recording, and as recent as 1958, recorded at Chess Studios. Far from sounding disjointed, however, the entire batch of songs jumped out of the speakers, threatening everything else in your record collection!

All songs were written by Wolf, except the classic 'Evil Is Going On,' penned by another blues legend, Willie Dixon and 'Forty-Four' by Roosevelt Sykes. Songs like Baby How Long,' 'I Asked for Water (She Gave Me Gasoline),' 'Moanin At Midnight,' 'How Many More Years, and 'Smokestack Lightning' would become blues standards over the decades. The list of session players on these recordings reads like a who's who of the history of the blues with Hubert Sumlin, Willie Dixon, Ike Turner, Otis Span, and Willie Johnson among those taking part.

The thing about any classic blues records is that modern technology still can't replicate what primitive technology captured way back when. The warmth and power remain fully intact. Other heroes such as Captain Beefheart and Tom Waits have tried to replicate that Wolf howl, but the original still reigns supreme. Wolf is a legend, and it wasn't just his recordings. His stage manner was also ahead of his time. "Wolf was the greatest that I've ever known," says his longtime saxophonist Eddie Shaw. "Wolf was not only a musician, he was an entertainer. He routinely rolled around the stage in simulation of sexual ecstasy or climbed the stage curtains like a deranged madman. That's what I respected him for."

'Moanin' in the Moonlight' is not only essential but also a cornerstone of American music!

By Dave Swanson, Summit Now Contributor

We recently lost one of the greatest filmmakers ever with the passing of David Lynch. His ability to create this surreal world that meshed priceless beauty, and fearless terror was utterly unique. Lynch could transform the most serene, traditional setting into the creepiest evil ever known. He was able to do so without cliches and without fanfare. A quiet stroll in the park could turn into a twisted nightmare in the blink of a surrealist eye. He was always very aware of setting the mood and then bending it to fit the narrative. One of his favorite tools was the use of music.

From his 1977 debut film, 'Eraserhead,’ throughout his entire library, he always placed the music in equal billing with the action on screen. So many of his films have those moments viewers recall that are tied to the music playing in the scene, be it the use of Roy Orbison's 'In Dreams' in 'Blue Velvet' or the dream pop of Julie Cruise throughout 'Twin Peaks.' 'Eraserhead' used vintage tunes from jazz pioneer Fats Waller to great effect and the sweet and innocent 'I've Told Every Little Star' by Linda Scott from Mulholland Drive. He was the master of marrying these harmless melodies with dark dreams.

He was also a songwriter himself. His early stab produced the now classic 'In Heaven, Everything Is Fine,' the unofficial theme song from 'Eraserhead' that no one who ever saw the film can forget. It was covered years later by the Pixies as well as Devo. His work with composer Angelo Badalamenti is legendary. He made albums that featured guests such as Karen O from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and one of his last projects was the incredible song he produced, the audio and video, for his longtime friend Donovan. He and the folk-rock icon were linked by their mutual interest and dedication to transcendental meditation. Lynch produced Donovan's 2021 single 'I Am The Shaman,' which is simply stunning, with Lynch's fingerprints all over it. I wished they had done more music together.

In an interview about seeing the Beatles and his own love for rock and roll, he made the perfect statement about music. "Music is one of the most fantastic things! Almost like fire and water and air, it's like a thing," he said while recalling his initial love for Elvis Presley, then seeing the Beatles early on at a boxing ring in Virginia. "It does so much. It does a thing for the intellect, it does a thing for the emotions, and a certain kind of music can swell the heart till it almost bursts! Tears of happiness flow out of your eyes. You can't believe the beauty that comes!"

So let's flip on our David Lynch Jukebox and let it play a variety of songs used in his cinematic adventures that we are lucky enough to have been witness to.

By Dave Swanson - Summit FM Contributor

The underground music world of the early 1980s was a treasure trove of styles, ideas, poses, and sonic assaults, each with a tale to tell. 

From the urgent pop of bands like the dB's and the Bongos to the garage party vibe of the Fleshtones and the Last, to the roots-meets-punk energy of X and the hardcore adrenaline of Minor Threat, it was a broad landscape filled with intriguing alternatives to the mainstream pit of processed pop and corporate rock churned out by the assembly line. Not only were all these upstarts recording and releasing their own records, but they were also hitting the road to spread their own gospel.

Straight out of Minneapolis, Husker Du formed as the new decade was dawning. They channeled their aggression and adrenaline into their own version of punk, which often had a more dissonant tone than the average ‘Ramones at 78 speed' approach so many had opted for. The band released their debut single, 'Statues,' in January 1981, and it was instantly recognized as not your average punk outing. The band took cues from the post-punk scene as well as the originals. 

From that point forward, it was a free-for-all as to what the band was up to with each release. Their first two releases were chaos on vinyl via the intense live debut of 'Land Speed Record' followed by the first studio offering, 'Everything Falls Apart,' a blast of urgent speed-fueled bursts of what could barely be called songs, the longest clocking in at just over 2 minutes and the entire 12 song LP registering a whopping 19 minutes. 

The band gained a reputation as an intense live band. Another thing they were becoming known for was always looking one step ahead. When touring for their new album, they often played mostly new material that would comprise the next release.

With each release, they seemed to expand their idea of who Husker Du was. In rapid order releasing the EP 'Metal Circus,' which featured the band's most melodic material to that point, courtesy of drummer Grant Hart, 'It's Not That Funny Anymore' and 'Diane' were a long way from the speed-driven frenzy they were initially known for and would set the stage for their path forward.

The band's growth from the live debut through the first studio effort and follow-up EP was impressive, but no one would have guessed where they would land next. As usual, the band was on the road, playing long sets of material not yet released. In the fall of 1983, they entered the studio to record what would become not only an underground classic but also the album that still most often defines the band: Zen Arcade.

Both Bob Mould and Grant Hart had hit the studio armed with new songs that sidestepped the clichés of hardcore, while channeling the energy of punk into waters filled with everything from pop and folk to hints of psychedelia and hard rock all while maintaining the band’s signature. The album opens with the urgent 'Something I Learned Today,' one of Mould's finest tunes, which set the stage for what was to follow over four vinyl sides. 'Never Talking to You Again,' and 'Pink Turns to Blue' are forgotten pop classics from Grant Hart. The album's release was preceded by a single that featured the non-LP track 'Eight Miles High,' a cover of the 1966 Byrds classic. While Husker Du kept much of the song intact, they most definitely put their own stamp on it, transforming it from a dream-like state into a tension-filled bout of anxiety. It was a very crucial companion to the album and helped make people take notice.

Almost instantly, college radio was all over the album, along with respected press like the New York Times, Rolling Stone, and the NME over in the UK, all of which cited the adventurous spirit of the band and the transformation into a truly unique underground force. Coincidentally, SST label mate the Minutemen also released their own double LP, 'Double Nickels on The Dime,' right around the same time, creating a similar situation for them. If that weren't enough, fellow Minnesotans the Replacements were a couple of months away from releasing their much heralded 'Let It Be' album, another that suddenly put them in a different spotlight than people had them pegged before.

Things were happening in the US underground in a massive way, which is why when people reflect back on the 80s music, it depends who you talk to and where they are coming from. For every 'Thriller,' 'Kissing to Be Clever,' or 'Too Fast For Love,' there was a 'Let It Be,' 'Double Nickels on the Dime' or 'Zen Arcade' to balance things out. 

Forty-plus years on, and ‘Zen Arcade’ still sounds like nothing else in the record shop. Their shows were always full of energy, never phoning it in, and the ground covered by the Huskers and many others set the stage for the ‘alternative’ boom in the 90s. 

One other trivial side note, Husker Du had no image whatsoever. Be that a bad or good thing, it was the truth. They looked like three guys who walked off the street and hopped on stage. There are, in fact, many photos of them wearing–wait for it–flannel shirts and ratty jeans. Mixed with the buzz saw guitar, one could be swayed to claim they were ‘proto-grunge’ and you wouldn’t be off base.

It shows that it’s all about timing and presentation. I understand Nirvana's impact, importance, and significance, but Husker Du was there first and, to my ears, did it all much better.

By Sarah Swirsky, MSW, LSW, Summit Wellness Coordinator

As we settle into the heart of winter with freezing temperatures, it’s natural to feel a shift in energy and mood. Tress have shed their leaves, animals hibernate, and the pace of life slows down. Just as nature adapts, we too are wired to embrace this quieter season by resting, reflecting, and conserving our energy. This period, often referred to as "wintering," mirrors the natural world’s cycle of rest and renewal during the colder months.  

However, in a world that often values constant productivity and busyness, resisting these natural cycles can leave us feeling out of sync. Pushing ourselves to maintain the same energy levels as in spring or summer can lead to frustration, burnout, and even a deeper sense of disconnection. Fighting against this slower rhythm denies us the opportunity to recharge, which can amplify feelings of sadness or stress. 

Instead of resisting, wintering invites us to lean into this season of stillness, allowing ourselves to rest and recover. By honoring this natural rhythm, we can emerge from winter feeling renewed and ready for growth when the warmer months return. 

It’s important, however, to distinguish between natural wintering and clinical depression. Natural wintering is a temporary, reflective state that aligns with the seasonal ebb and flow, often marked by a need for rest, quiet, and reduced activity. This state doesn’t disrupt your ability to function or find moments of joy, and it tends to ease as the seasons change. 

Clinical depression, including Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), goes beyond the normal winter blues. It can manifest as persistent feelings of sadness, hopelessness, or fatigue that interfere with daily life. You may struggle to enjoy things you typically love, have difficulty concentrating, or even experience changes in appetite and sleep. If these symptoms persist or intensify, it’s essential to seek help from a mental health professional. Depression is treatable, and support is available. 

Understanding the rhythms of wintering and recognizing the difference between natural rest and clinical depression can help you navigate this season with self-compassion. If you find that your low energy or mood persists and interferes with your daily life, don’t hesitate to seek support. 

If you need assistance in finding professional mental health care, reach out to your local ADM Board for resources. And if you’re in crisis, help is just a call away—dial 988 to connect with a trained crisis counselor. You don’t have to face this alone. Support is always available.  

Thank you to the Summit County ADM Board for supporting Summit Wellness. Visit admboard.org for more info.  

By Dave Swanson - Summit FM Contributor

Tom Petty's decision to 'go solo' always seemed a bit off, since Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers were, well obviously, his band. But in 1989, Petty did just that with mega hit, 'Full Moon Fever,' an album which could have easily been a Heartbreakers LP, but this go-round, Petty worked as a solo act, bringing in Jeff Lynne (of ELO fame) to act as producer, sounding board, co-writer, and musical companion. Whatever the exact recipe, it worked amazingly, giving Petty a multi-platinum hit that scaled the charts just shy of the top. Heartbreaker Mike Campbell also occupied a major role, and guest appearances from fellow band members Benmont Tench and Howie Epstein made sure it wasn't too far removed from a Heartbreakers outing. The freedom it allowed Petty to bring in guests like George Harrison, Roy Orbison, Del Shannon, Jim Keltner, and others, gave the music a slightly different vibe from the Heartbreakers, though not miles apart.

With that milestone under his belt, he teamed back up with Lynne for round two for the follow-up. 'Into The Great Wide Open' was released in the summer of 1991, and though sonically it followed the path of its predecessor, it failed to connect at the cash register in the same manner. Not that one would ever call it a failure! It is packed full of Petty classics like 'Learning To Fly' and the title track, both released as singles, which became genuine hits and mainstays in the Petty catalog and live shows. Elsewhere tracks like 'Makin' Some Noise', 'Two Gunslingers,' 'Too Good To Be True', and 'King's Highway,' are all rock solid entries into the Petty catalog.

Though Petty was never far sonically, or mentally, from his beloved Heartbreakers, there was, at the time, a sense that this was something he needed to do. Guitarist Mike Campbell noted as much in an interview with Rolling Stone from that year. "Right from day one, it's a miracle that this band stayed together for two weeks," Campbell said. "I don't really know why we're still together. There must be a bond that even we're not aware of." Sales of the previous Heartbreakers album, 'Let Me Up (I've Had Enough)' were not what they had been before, so with 'Full Moon Fever,' it seemed like a good time to make that temporary break.

The next album, 'Wildflowers,' would arrive in 1994 also emblazoned with the sole credit to Petty, no Heartbreakers. He would, of course, regroup with them till his last days, but would also leave the door open to 'go solo' or work with Lynne, or anyone else he crossed paths with. Petty brought up an interesting point in that 1991 interview, one that could easily apply today, as well as countless times over the decades.

"Things got real phony-sounding for a while," he stated. "It got to the point where even the guys in the denim jackets were sounding phony. I started thinking maybe I should just get drunk. Maybe I should just f**king forget all these songs. I hate to sound like a grouchy old-timer, but the reason rock isn't as big as it once was, is probably that it isn't as good as it once was. It wouldn't bother me, except this stuff is really important to me. As corny as it sounds, my life has been consumed by rock music. I just loved it right from the beginning."

In giving this one a spin again after so many years, it solidly drives one point home, we miss Tom Petty.